Imagining Defeat Poem by David Berman

Imagining Defeat

Rating: 4.8


She woke me up at dawn,
her suitcase like a little brown dog at her heels.

I sat up and looked out the window
at the snow falling in the stand of blackjack trees.

A bus ticket in her hand.

Then she brought something black up to her mouth,
a plum I thought, but it was an asthma inhaler.

I reached under the bed for my menthols
and she asked if I ever thought of cancer.

Yes, I said, but always as a tree way up ahead
in the distance where it doesn't matter

And I suppose a dead soul must look back at that tree,
so far behind his wagon where it also doesn't matter.

except as a memory of rest or water.

Though to believe any of that, I thought,
you have to accept the premise

that she woke me up at all.

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Dr Antony Theodore 24 July 2020

Then she brought something black up to her mouth, a plum I thought, but it was an asthma inhaler. I reached under the bed for my menthols and she asked if I ever thought of cancer. asthma inhaler...... very fine poem. tony

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Ryan Freeley 04 March 2007

this is one of my favorite poems

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David Berman

David Berman

Williamsburg, Virginia
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